


Beautiful Face

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 13:09:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10617552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Kylo is self-conscious about his scar.





	

He’s self-conscious about the scar, she knows. She understands why, because to him it feels like evidence of his failure: failure to control the girl, failure to crush the Resistance… failure to protect their key asset. She understands, because she’s got her fair share of marks from that day, too.

Some scars you carry as proof you won. You look at them, and think ‘the other guy had it worse’, or ‘I’m glad I dragged myself out of that place’. Your fingers linger on them when you’re dressing yourself, and then you move on.

Others go deeper than skin, muscle, bone. They etch onto _you_ , underneath all the physical layers. They tell your failures, your… mistakes. One curls across his face from brow to jaw, and she knows he hates it, because he tries to turn his face to the side so she can’t see. 

Today, she won’t let him. He turns his good cheek to her, and she kisses it when he offers it, but her fingers stay where they are. Her thumbs push just under his jawbone, the fingertips sliding up towards his cheeks. He’s got such an elegant face: all angled lines and patrician strength, but then soft, full lips and eyes that disappear into infinity. She turns his head back around, and makes sure his gaze meets hers.

“You are beautiful,” she reminds him, and her thumbs glide from the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks.   


He doesn’t agree, but her touches pull a blush all the same. His skin is alabaster-pale, but dotted with dark like a reverse star-map. She draws at the knot in his brow, trying to ease out the tension, edging the lines where his hair meets his scalp.

“ _Beautiful_ ,” she whispers again, as she admires those long, long lashes. They hide his eyes from her, and she doesn’t fight them.  


He’ll look up when he’s ready.

Those pink, swollen lips always look like he’s been kissing already, and she smudges them with her thumbs. She wonders what he’d look like in lipstick, and decides he’d look _stunning_. Maybe she’ll paint them, and get him to leave kiss-trails all over her skin. 

He winces when she puts her lips to the bottom of his scar, but she kisses a dry stripe up, as if wiping it off his face. 

“It means you survived,” she reminds him, and kisses the tip of his nose, to finish.  


“Thank you,” he whispers, his hands covering hers.  


“You’ll always be beautiful,” she insists. “Just keep coming home to me.”  



End file.
